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“Thank you so much,” the little 11-year-old bows, her short black hair moving with the motion. By her side, her little sister follows suit, little hands fisting her pink skirt.
You smile benevolently, and hold out two folded umbrellas to the sisters. “You can use these to get home.”
Gasping in surprise, she flusters. “But- they’re your umbrellas! How are you gonna sell them if you give them to us?” Her little sister nods vigorously, her little straw hat nearly falling off at the motion.
“I have many umbrellas,” you reply, eyes crinkling at the innocent children. “You need not pay me back. All I ask is that you return to your home safely.”
Still hesitant, her hands hover hesitantly in front of her, almost but not quite touching the umbrellas. “But they’re so pretty, though…”
Eyeing the worsening storm with apprehension, you press once more. “If you wish, you can visit my stall at the market whenever you two are free. Would that suffice as repayment?”
Though the crinkle of her little sister’s eyebrows tell you that perhaps you should talk like a fellow young person when encountering the new generations, the black haired girl nods enthusiastically.
“We can do that, can’t we Mei?” she turns to the aforementioned Mei, who nods and smiles shyly at you.
Satisfied, you hand an umbrella to each of the sisters. Stepping back to watch them open their umbrellas, the sisters share a gleeful look upon realising their umbrellas are their favourite colours.
Stepping out of the dinky, rotting wooden shrine and under the pouring rain, both sisters bow again, this time in perfect unison. “Thank you, Umbrella Seller!”
“Fret not. Come by soon.” You wave goodbye, watching from beneath your own umbrella until they disappear behind the thick curtain of rain.
The calmness of the rain is soothing and you choose to stand there for a while, watching the rain droplets ripple in the puddles by your sandals. The white noise of the storm reminds you of your home, for some silly nostalgic reason. It is charming, in the way rainy weather is lovely when you’re warm and safe. At least, until the previously quiet spirit materialises himself.
“You just stole my believers, Umbrella Seller!” The resident spirit of the shrine whines, tail flicking from side to side in annoyance like a disgruntled cat.
Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “Your believers? All they did was say thanks for shelter from the rain. You did not even bless them.” Twirling your umbrella, you can’t help but smirk when the cold drops dripping the spine flies and lands on the fox crouched under the shrine.
He glares at you testily, ears twitching. “They didn’t offer anything, so I couldn’t bless them, okay?” He rests his head on his front paws, eyes stull narrowed in apprehension.
“Why not?” you titter, one hand raised to cover your mouth. “Just a simple ‘safe journeys’ would suffice, no?”
The cream coloured shapeshifter bristles, spluttering. “Well- That’s not-“ Shaking his head, he attempts to compose himself. “My point still stands! They didn’t offer anything!”
You smirk scornfully and turn your heel to leave, unwilling to humour this ridiculous fox spirit who has fallen so far from grace to dwell in a lowly shrine. “They offered their thanks. Besides, those girls are my believers now, and they have given their word to return to visit me in the near future.”
“They won’t when they find out you’re not human!” he prettily calls after you, spiteful but unwilling to get wet in the downpour to chase after you.
You don’t bother dignifying him with a reply, walking under your lavender umbrella iin the opposite direction of the sisters.
“Good morning, Umbrella Seller!”
You turn around at the call, finding the two sisters from before standing in front of your small umbrella stall in town.
“Good morning,” you reply pleasantly, pointedly ignoring the fox that’s weaving coyly around their feet, invisible to everyone but you. “How are you two feeling this lovely morning?”
“Great! How are you?” Satsuki replies, as little Mei chimes in with her own greeting.
“I’m doing fine. Are you on your way to school?” You smile, already rummaging under your desk for a treat to give each of them. Satsuki nods, as Mei attempts to peek over the counter to watch you, her short stature limiting her actions.
“Here,” you stand back up, placing a red box of cream cookies into Mei’s anticipating hands. “Share these with each other on the way to school, yes?”
“Thanks, Umbrella Seller!” Mei shouts, delighted, and Satsuki inclines her head in thanks.
“We’ll bring you a gift too,” she promises, glancing at the glass vase on the counter you kept to hold the roadside flowers they plucked for you on the walk back from school. On this particular morning, the daisies were already starting to wilt, despite your best efforts.
“I look forward to it.” You tuck your hand into the sleeve of your yukata, shooing them off with the motion of your hand.
Satsuki waves goodbye, her other hand firmly grasped by Mei’s own, eager to eat her cookies. You watch until they disappear into the crowd.
“Stop ignoring me!” complains the fox from his perch on your lovely peach wood counter. You do not spare him a glance, busying yourself with rearranging your displayed umbrellas.
“I am not,” you deny. You know, like a liar.
Clicking his tiny teeth, the fox decides that sleeping is a better alternative to exchanging snips with you, and flips down unceremoniously on your counter. He preens under the warm morning sun, his tails drooping over the edge.
You can feel his gaze on you, even when your back is to him. You ignore it, as you do with everything that mildly displeases you.
Once you’re satisfied with the wares on display today, you eye him out of the corner of your eye. He's still sprawled out, lounging beneath the sunbeams without a care in the world. Unfortunately, it looks like he’s planning on staying around for the foreseeable future.
Dusting off your hands, you glance up and down the street. It’s a slow morning and there doesn’t seem to be any potential customers, so it’s safe to converse with the source of your headaches without looking crazy.
Flicking his nearest ear lightly with your forefinger, you frown disapprovingly at him once he opens his green eyes. “Do you not have a shrine to look after?” you ask, narrowing your gaze.
The lazy fox licks his paw and grooms his snout. “Do you not have a shop to look after?” he mocks, parroting your words.
“How childish,” you chastise, displeased with his nonchalant behaviour. “You complain about your lack of believers, yet you give them nothing to believe in. I do not understand your thinking.”
The fox stretches idly, without a care in the world. “I don’t need any believers, anyway.” He gets up, walks a few paces, and settles down on another spot to sleep in.
You furrowed your eyebrows. What sort of deity doesn’t need believers? No believers means no strength, which means you have no power to continue existing. “I do not understand. Please enlighten me.” You want to know.
He cracks open an eye to peek at you. You’re sitting primly on your stool, hands clasped and resting on your lap. Huffing, the fox daintily jumps off the counter and at you.
“Eh?” you gasp in surprise, hands reaching out to catch him all the same. The cream coloured bundle of fur lands neatly in your arms. “What are you-”
The fox makes himself comfortable on your lap, uncaring for your own comfort. “Pet me,” he demands. “Then I’ll tell you.”
You raise an eyebrow, but comply nevertheless. “Are you certain you are not a neko?” you tease, carefully stroking his fluffy head. “You certainly act like one.”
He nips your hand resting around his body, holding it gently in his teeth as a warning. The fox lets go of your index finger with a soft croon, and laps the pink skin. His tongue is sandpaper rough. It’s silent for a while.
You watch people pass by your store.
“I’m not the deity of the shrine by the road,” says the fox suddenly. You blink in surprise, hand momentarily halting the gentle pets. At his half-hearted glare up at you, you smile benignly and continue combing your fingers through his soft fur. “I’m not a deity at all.” His entire body seems to sigh.
You say nothing.
“I’m being punished.” Although you can’t see his expressions from where you are above him, his entire body emits anger and sorrow. “I was banished here.” The fox’s sharp little claws dig into your skin through the cloth, but you make no complaints.
You make no noise, only continuing to scratch the fox behind his twitching ears. The fox offers nothing else, and you do not prove him for any more.
It is only a little while longer, when the sun has risen to the middle of the sky, that you open your mouth. “I do now remember my life before this.” You stare straight ahead, beyond your counter. “All I have been is an umbrella seller. It is all I have had for many long years.”
The fox leans into the palm that’s scratching his chin. “I’ve only seen you for less than a century,” he comments absently.
You hum pensively. “I supposed that is because I have only recently set up my umbrella shop here. I wandered before this, you see.”
The fox is silent, though he shifts to lean his head against your arm and wraps his tail around your opposite wrist.
The day passes. It is not so bad - to have a companion in this suffering.
It becomes routine. The fox visits with Satsuki and Mei in the morning before school, and leaves with them when they drop by for the second time during their walk home from school. Perhaps he joins them when he sees them walking past his shrine. They never seem to acknowledge him, as does everyone else besides you, but you don’t inquire and he doesn’t say.
Neither the girls nor the fox visit on Saturdays (Sunday is market day, so they talk to you then). It is already long past evening, and many stores are beginning to close and lock up. You get up from your stool to do the same.
As you do everyday, you gently fold close the umbrellas and parasols and set them in wooden cabinets, each with their own stand. You wipe the counter with a damp cloth and sweep any dust and debris from the store front with the trusty bamboo broom you bought from the Sunday bazar. It has served you long and well, and you’re quite pleased with yourself for the wonderful steal.
With a quick once over, you nod to yourself in satisfaction. You flick off the lights and close the shutters, padlocking it. Just as you open the door to the stairs that lead to your home above the store, you hear a desperate yip, and then a sharp tug to the hem of your yukata.
Looking down, you are met with the desperate green eyes of an injured fox, and a growing puddle of blood. You blink.
“Yes?” you ask, hand not moving from the door. You two are not friends, you repeat like a desperate mantra. Not lovers, either. You are just two beings who understand each other very well. Just because you spend everyday with each other and exchange gifts and letters with each other and think about his cute smile and sneaky habits and mannerisms and-
“I am only able to assist when you ask.” Say you need me say you need me say you need me i want to help you please let me help you just say the words I will do it for you
Letting go of your clothes, he calls your name quietly. It is meek and sad, and you have never heard him defeated like this before. “Please help me.”
Without another word, you scoop him into your arm and shut the door behind you with your foot. Taking the stairs three steps at a time, you smoothly unlock the door and shut it with your foot, deftly re-locking it with a twist of your wrist and a clink of the key. Dropping the key into a ceramic bowl by the door, you kick off your sandals and head straight for the bathroom.
The fox makes no noise, despite his injury. Despite wondering why he chose to come to you, you already know why. (He has no one else to go to. They cannot see him. They do not believe in his existence.)
The blood in the floor will be a pain to clean later. The grooves of the floorboards will be especially tedious.
In the bathroom, you lay the fox as gently as you can on the white tiles. “Where?” you ask, sitting down by him and eyeing his matted fur and heaving chest. You can’t ascertain his injuries for sure in this state.
The fox huffs, chest heaving with exhaustion. It seems he cannot bring himself enough energy to even utter a word. “Fine,” you snap, growing impatient. You cannot wait any longer. You will save him whether he likes it or not.
You can tell he’s not yet unconscious, you will have to take matters into your own hands and make that happen. Pinning up your yukata sleeves, you choke the fox.
Your hands wrap neatly around his neck, and you press. Gently, because you do not want to kill him (thought the you of months past who have gladly jumped at the opportunity). Carefully you increase the pressure, because you need the fox to lose himself.
Exhausted and injured, he does not fight back, and succumbs to the sweet call of sleep. How carefree. With no concentration to keep up his fox form, there’s a comedic puff of white smoke, accompanied by a silly ‘poof!’ sound effect. You’ll never understand why a shapeshifter’s magic acts the way it does.
In the place of a dainty cream furred fox is a very pretty man, with pretty cream hair, pretty claws, pretty twitching ears, a pretty body, a pretty di—
You inspect the large, bloodied gash from his clavicle, across his sternum and stopping just before his ribs. The blood has clotted in most areas, but there’s still a slow, steady trickle of blood running down his abdomen. You want to see him covered in blood. Wait, what?
You scrub your hands clean in the washbasin, until they are raw and pink. Carefully, you wipe the skin around the gash with a damp washcloth. The flaking blood comes off easily, and with all the gore gone, the injury doesn’t look too bad. Not bad enough to have to send him to the hospital, but you can certainly patch him up well enough in your bathroom.
Taking a disinfected needle, you gently push the torn skin together and thread it through the flesh. It’s pliant beneath your fingertips, and the needle pierces through with no resistance. The procedure is fast and easy, mostly because the fox isn’t awake to whine and complain about any and everything.
The gash on his achilles tendon looks particularly nasty. Though shallow in nature, it stretches long to reach his ankles. You wonder if he’ll be able to walk normally. It doesn’t need stitches, but you disinfectant it and patch it up all the same. There are multiple scrapes and cuts littering his arms and legs, but they’re only minor and so you clean them with the washcloth, after you rinse it from the previous blood it picked up from his chest.
He’s dirty and scuffed, but bathing and cleaning him comes later. Preferably when he’s awake so he can bathe himself.
Deeming your handiwork satisfactory now that he’s no longer bleeding all over your bathroom tiles, you step out into the hallway, and peer into your bedroom. Your futon has already been rolled out, laid neatly against the floor without a single thread out of place. Glancing back into the bathroom at your (unwanted) patient, you press a finger to your throbbing temple. Looks like you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.
“Kaoru. Wake up.”
His eyes open, to be met with the soft, muted colours of a patterned, cotton bedspread. He blinks sleepily, not quite remembering since when he owns a fabric in such a pretty shade. Well, whatever. Sighing blissfully, he shifts his grip to better accommodate the pillow in his arms, pressing his face into the soft fabric. Sleeping in when it’s still early morning is the best feeling ever.
“I am flattered you think my chest is a comfortable pillow, but your head is quite heavy.”
Wait, what?
This time for real, Kaoru opens his eyes. Lifting his head from his pillow and surveying his surroundings, only now does he realise that actually… He has no idea where he is!
Looking down, he finds your unimpressed face and his arms looped around your waist. You’re both on the floor and there’s a blanket covering his body and whoa, it’s pretty chilly, actually. Is there a window open?
“Wha-” splutters the fox, leaping away from you at breakneck speed, wrapping the thick blanket around his naked form. “What happened?! Did I do something?!”
You sit up, rubbing your sore shoulder to soothe is from the torture it endured from the hard floor. “Don’t worry,” you say, hoping to calm down the ruffled fox. How cute - it usually takes a lot to fluster the un-flusterable Kaoru. “We didn’t have sex. I checked.”
“Huh?” He’s still confused and befuddled, head crooked to the side. There’s a faint flush dusting his cheeks, and you can’t help but smirk at the rare sight. With his fluffy, drooping ears and tail, Kaoru looks soft and domesticated, quite unlike his normal insufferable self. “I- I don’t-”
Straightening your clothes as you stand up, you motion to the fox spirit with your hand. “Come along. Breakfast is first.” Without waiting, because you know he will follow you regardless, you walk into the kitchen-dining room.
Pulling out the pot used for cooking rice and setting it on the gas stove, you scoop two handfuls of rice into it, followed by clean water until it reaches the first joint of your index finger. “Matches, please.” You command, hand held out. Like clockwork, a small matchbox is placed in the centre of your palm. “Thank you kindly, Kaoru.”
“Mhm…” He says nothing more, only watching you wrapped in his blanket cocoon. You wonder if his suddenness is because of his injuries.
You easily light a fire and flick on the gas with an experienced hand, placing the lid with your other hand. Taking another pan and setting it on the stove, you open the fridge for the fish.
“Mackerel or salmon?” you ask, wondering if the leftover miso from yesterday's dinner is still fit for consumption.
“Mackerel, please.”
Noting the request, you pull out the tray of fish alongside the bowl of soup. Closing the fridge door with your foot, you catch a view of Kaoru picking his claw nails anxiously. “Can you set the table?” you ask, reheating the soup in a small saucepan. The fish has started to cook, sizzling merrily in the oiled pan.
The fox nods compliantly, shifting behind you to reach the cabinet for the cutlery and crockery. Pulling them off the wooden shelf carefully, he balances the bowls and glasses in one hand and the plates and chopsticks in the other - familiar enough with your kitchen to not need to fumble for directions.
Working in tandem, breakfast is completed quickly and without any major accidents. You only trip once on Kaoru’s blanket tail and you were thankfully holding only a knife. Sitting down opposite the fox at your tiny table, you smile in contentment. “Thank you for the food,” you pray, head bowing in thanks. Opposite you, he mimics your actions. The blanket slides off his shoulders with no hands to secure it, and you chew your rice thoughtfully, the view invoking a decision.
Eyeing his dirty bandages and greasy hair, you announce your plans. “We’re having a bath after this.”
“We?” Kaoru perks up, because of course that’s the only word he hears with his selective hearing. His cracked lips curl into a smirk and his green eyes crinkle with mischief. “You’ll bathe with me?”
You shoot down his innuendos immediately. “You will agitate your wounds should you attempt it alone. I will assist.” Besides wanting him clean, you also really really want to brush his fluffy tail. And wash his blond hair that’s normally so soft and silky. And also- well, you want to make sure he’s clean and comfortable, but you can’t deny the appeal of touching him.
Kaoru smiles softly behind his soup bowl, not that you can see it.
You draw up a bath after he’s rinsed himself down in the shower. The soiled bandages lie in a heap, dark red encrusting the white cotton gauze.
Kaoru lowers himself into the porcelain bathtub, unable to stop the satisfied sigh that escapes his mouth when the hot water makes contact with his bruised skin. “It’s nice,” he mumbles, ears flattened against his head. The white tub is big - you could fit inside with him no problem. Sadly, it doesn’t seem like you’re joining him.
“I shall change the bed sheets and set the dirty ones to wash,” you say, gathering the old bandages in your arms. “Soak.” It’s an order, not a request. You narrow your eyes at him and wag a stern finger for good measure, before marching out.
Kaoru sinks down under the water until his mouth is submerged. Blowing bubbles in the water, he wonders what would have happened if he hadn’t found you when he did last night. Died, probably. Alone, miserable, in some random alley somewhere. Maybe he’d be so mangled up you wouldn’t even recognise him. He busies himself by looking through your collection of bottles and containers that line the side of the bath next to the wall.
Caught up in his thoughts, the fox doesn’t realise you’ve returned until you flick water droplets in his ear.
“Hey!” he protests, twitching his ear in annoyance. You smirk, amused, settling down on a short stool next to him. You’re rolling up the sleeve of the dress shirt you slept in, and Kaoru resists the urge to splash you with water because it’s white.
You dip a hand into the water and nod to yourself. “Still warm.” He watches as you select an orange bottle on the large collection and squeeze a dollop onto your palm. It’s a clear liquid - shampoo? - and smells like maple syrup. Kaoru watches as you lather in between your palms, so much foam and bubbles emerging from such a tiny dollop.
“Come,” you say, and he obediently turns around, barring his scarred back to you. Your hands are gently and confident, scrubbing efficiently at his scalp and carefully avoiding his ears. The sensation is heavenly, and Kaoru cannot stop himself from sinking into your touch with satisfied croons. You say nothing from behind him, but the touches gradually shift from scrubbing to petting.
You work your way down his shoulder length hair, combing through the strands gently, detangling the matted hair with your fingers. Every now and then, Kaoru swears you graze your fingers over the nape of his nape. It’s happened way too many times in such a short span of time to be coincidental. But when he brings it up, you insist otherwise.
“Perhaps you are simply delusional from the blood loss you have suffered.”
After what seems like hours of blissful pleasure, you gently hold down Kaoru’s ears. “I will now wash out the soap. Is this painful for you?”
He murmurs a negative, head spinning from your soft touch and the warm atmosphere. The water flows down his body in rivulets, rejoining the bath water. You reach around him to take another bottle. It’s small and pink. “Conditioner,” you say. He knew that. Of course he knows what conditioner is.
The feel of your fingers on his hair is all his smooth brain can comprehend in the domestic moment. Subconsciously, Kaoru follows the movement of your fingers until his back bumps the rim of the tub and he’s all but leaning on your lap. Your fingers deftly comb through his wet locks, thoroughly working in the conditioner. With a quiet warning, you hold down his ears as you pour water over him to rinse his hair once more.
The water turns a light shade of pink.
“Arm, please.” you request, holding your hand palm up, damp washcloth ready.
Kaoru seems to have recovered his strength significantly enough to smirk with a teasing glint in his eye. “That’s so bold of you! Skin contact before marriage?” He twists around so that he’s facing you, resting his chin and arm on the side of the bathtub. “How scandalous.” All the same, he follows your instructions when you wiggle your awaiting fingers insistently.
“Right,” you deadpan, gently scrubbing his arm with the cloth. You’re careful around his cuts and scrapes. Even though they’re mostly scabbed over, you’d hate to reopen them. As you repeatedly rinse the cloth in the bath water, it gradually turns from a soft pink to a murky brown. You'll have to drain and refill the tub. “Why do you insist on continuing this ridiculous farce?”
Kaoru says nothing in reply, perhaps in shame or guilt, quietly watching you work on cleaning his other arm. Bright green eyes follow your movements, before flicking shut with a content exhale. You work in silence, choosing not to prod further. For the present moment, at least.
You scrub off all the dirt and grime, the task significantly easier now that he’s been soaking in the water. His legs and body follow the same procedure: scrub the dried blood off, rub soap on, rinse it off, drain the bathtub when it gets too dirty.
When all that’s left to wash is his face, you wring the washcloth and drape it over the side of the tub to dry. Selecting a softer, fluffy looking cloth from the cabinet below the sink, you gently wipe his face and neck.
When you tilt his chin to rub the streaks of dirt on his cheeks, Kaoru melts even further under your touch (if that was even possible), eyes fluttering shut in simple enjoyment of the moment. Like a dog he leans his entire head on your hand, so that you’re forced to cup his chin to support his weight.
What a spoiled fox, you think fondly. You might have even pressed a kiss to his exposed forehead if dressing his wounds were a lesser priority.
You drain the tub and throw a fluffy white towel at the fox, who snatches it out of the air with ease. “Dry yourself,” you say, flicking off water from your fingers and wiping the excess water clinging to your hands on your cotton shorts. “I’ll get everything else ready.” Before Kaoru can protest loudly (maybe it's because you know he will at any given chance) you swiftly remove yourself from the bathroom, sliding the wooden door shut behind you.
There’s nothing much for Kaoru to do otherwise, besides catch a cold, so he wraps the towel around his waist. He’d love to stay in the warm water, but there’s none left. Why stay shivering and alone when he can be with you?
"Ahhh, I can't believe you're so brazen!" Kaoru sways in front of you as you apply a salve to the healing wounds on his back. "An unmarried woman alone with a man? How bold." Unamused, you press a finger against a particularly purple bruise which causes the fox to lurch forward in pain. "Hey! That's was uncalled for!" You can't see his face from your position behind him, but you can certain hear the sulk in his voice.
"I'm sure," you reply drily, covering and setting aside the salve container. "And I suppose this trashing was uncalled for, as well?" You reach for the pile of clean bandages, unrolling them neatly.
His shoulders hike up, as if ashamed. "Uh- No?" He twists his head to face you, smiling bashfully. "But you'll avenge me, won't you? Reclaim my honour!" He grins happily, seemingly blind to you narrowing gaze as you wrap the bandages around his chest and upper back.
"Not at all, you fool." You tie the bandages a little too tightly, and then smack him for good measure. "I shall not be reclaiming anything."
Kaoru turns to completely face you, watching you pack up the remaining items now that you've deemed him sufficiently treated. (If he can yap, he's fine.) Bumping his head against yours, the fox smiles coyly. "Not even your vir-"
You swing the metal box at his face, connecting it with a satisfying clang! Huffing testily, you stand up and nudge the quivering fox onto the bed sheet with your foot. He's clutching his face and crying, but you pay it no mind. "I now going to mind my shop." You move briskly, bringing a tray of medicine and water. "Eat this should the pain return," you order. You get a low grunt in response. "Do not go out, and do not let anyone in."
When Kaoru doesn't respond, curled into a pouting ball of fabric and fur, you dig your heel into his side. "Am I understood?"
"Yes..." comes his voice, meek. You crouch by the bundle and pull up the sleeve that's covering his face, peering at his expression. As expected, Kaoru has a cheeky smile where his canines spill over his pink lips and his green eyes crinkle in crescents. "I'll be good," he promises, and you both know it's a lie. You'll come back to find you closet ransacked and your favourite clothes shaped into a nest he's curled in, or you fridge ransacked of meat and eggs, but the vegetables will be left suspiciously untouched.
You flick his forehead and stand back up, brushing the lint off your outfit. As you put on your sandals, there’s the telltale thump of footsteps behind you.
“Have a nice day.” he smiles, blanket wrapped around his frame.”
You allow a small smile in return. “I’m off.”
“You have a performance today, yes?”
Mei beams, pleased. “That’s right! Will you be watching us?” She leans on the peach counter to watch you, light brown hair falling on her eyes at the motion. Beside her, Satsuki pats down her skirt to remove the nonexistent lint whilst clicking furiously at her phone
”We should be able to,” you hum. Straightening up, you place an individually wrapped fruit sandwich in each of their hands. “Here’s your snack for this morning.”
”Thank you!” they cheer in unison, something they’d have lots of practices off from over the years. Satsuki flicks her phone shut and slips it into her pocket, waving at you.
“I hope you and your husband can make it.” Satsuki says, Mei nodding along next to her. “I think really you guys’ll like the third act of the play.”
”Husband?” you blink on surprise, as does Kaoru, who’s arms are wrapped around your neck and has been a proper nuisance the whole morning.
Mei tilts her head, chewing on a piece of strawberry of the sandwich she already opened. “Not yet?” she swallows, confusion visible. “I thought I saw a ring, y’know, so I assumed you guys had gotten married or something.”
”Mei!” hisses Satsuki, flicking her younger sister’s ear. “You don’t just ask people that! Just cuz they’ve been together since forever doesn’t mean they’re married.”
Kaoru snorts, properly entertained. If his tails were out, you’re sure they would be flicking mischievously. “Now, don’t go exposing me like that,” the fox winks, as if he and the sisters are in on a secret you’re not privy to. “We can’t say anything just yet, okay?”
Mei squeals with delight, and Satsuki huffs in laughter. You deadpan, unamused. “I’m right here, you fools. Besides, shouldn’t you girls be getting along to school?”
”Why the rush?” croons Kaoru, only so you can hear. “Want me all to yourself?”
You don’t bother to even turn around to face him, waving goodbye to the sisters. “In your dreams. I have better things to do, like sell my umbrellas.”
”What, like that’s more important than me?”
”More like you’re the one thing I wish I could get rid off.”